


Traître

by kittywampus



Series: Sans le dire [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Caleb is only mentioned like twice, Feelings, I’m unsure what to tag so pls let me know, Kissing, M/M, this is short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:08:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittywampus/pseuds/kittywampus
Summary: Mickey said he wouldn’t, but he left. He came back right when Ian thought he had everything figured out.Or, Ian and Mickey as Fiona/JimmySteve.s5e6
Relationships: Caleb/Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Sans le dire [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/967890
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Traître

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there. I decided to revisit this series because it’s fun and I like exploring these moments with Ian and Mickey. In this particular installment, Ian is Fiona and Mickey is JimmySteve. In this specific piece, Ian’s the Gallagher caretaker, Mickey has JimmySteve’s job as the car thief etc, and was MIA for a year just like JimmySteve was in s3-s4. Ian married Caleb on a whim after knowing him for a few days like Fiona did with Gus. There’s more nuances for this piece I made up in my head that are irrelevant to the story, but if you’re curious feel free to ask. Enjoy!
> 
> The title for this one translates to “treacherous.”

Ian sincerely thought he had it figured out. He was _happy_ , and even if he wasn’t as happy as he could be, the happiness was still there. That’s why when Mickey Milkovich came crashing back down into his life, blowing a crater in the small sense of normalcy he’d managed to make for himself and his family, he wanted to scream.

He was married, as weird as that was to accept. Caleb was _fine_ , nice, a sexy firefighter that seemed to be like an okay dude. Sure, the marriage was on a whim after only knowing one another for a few days, but _who the fuck cares_ , honestly. He’d made worse choices with worse men, and who the fuck was Mickey, or anyone, to judge him? He knew his family blamed it on his bipolar, but even Ian knew it was just regular old poor decision making. He cringed inwardly when the realization dawned on him that Caleb didn’t really even know about his bipolar, didn’t know anything about him. He figured they’d cross that bridge when they got to it, maybe Ian could have a fairytale, maybe he could have a happy ending and a normal life. Not likely, but maybe.

Fucking Mickey.

The pounding knock on the front door grabbed Ian’s attention, pulling him away from the couch where Lip and Debbie had been sitting with him and enjoying a beer.

Ian immediately knew it was Mickey. He couldn’t really explain it, he just.. could _feel_ Mickey, had a weird sixth sense that used to excite him, now it just broke his heart.

He swung the door open, shoving Mickey with so much force that he’d knocked him down the steps and into the fence, causing him to stumble.

“You can’t just keep showing up!” Ian shouted, door flying shut behind him, walking to where Mickey stood in their front yard. “You can’t disappear off the face of the earth for a _year_ and then show up and expect me to just accept it! I moved on!” He said with earnest, not really knowing if he meant it.

Mickey, as if nothing was awry, heaved a sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What’d I miss?”

Ian laughed bitterly, crossing his arms under his chest and shrugged. “A lot. Everything, okay? So much. And you wouldn’t have if you didn’t— if you didn’t fucking _leave_ ,” Ian breathed out.

Mickey’s eyes looked apologetic, but his expression hardened. “And you got married,” he said, sounding hurt. Ian couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yep, I got married,” Ian said, nodding to himself and averting his eyes from Mickey.

“To some firefighter dude named Caleb that has a fancy apartment on the Northside,” he said with a flare of pain.

Ian saw red and scoffed loudly, “you stalking me now? What the fuck, Mickey? I mean, seriously!” He shouted, completely disarmed by Mickey’s next question.

“Do you love him?” He asked, like what he said was so simple. And really, it should have been. Caleb was his husband, after all, people typically tend to love the people they marry.

Ian felt his eyes burn, nostrils flaring as he hugged his arms around himself, “you don’t get to ask me that,” he bit out roughly, shaking his head and desperately trying not to fall to pieces. He hated how easily Mickey could disarm him— tear him down to a single thread, expose all of his wounds and scars like it was nothing. The fact of the matter was, Ian had no idea if he loved Caleb. He had no idea if he’d ever loved _anyone_ other than Mickey, and the realization terrified him. Caleb was _easy_. Someone who fell into his lap and seemed like a good idea.

Most of all, he missed Mickey. He missed Mickey terribly, so much that in the early days of him completely disappearing that Ian hardly left the house, barely left his room. It was a deep familiar ache that rattled inside his chest. He missed the way Mickey held him at night, the way they’d wake up together, the way Mickey kissed his nose in the silence of the morning, both of them glowing and bathed in sunlight, as if they were the only people on the planet. He missed the feel of his skin, the way their proximity never felt close enough. He hated how easy it was for Mickey to leave him without a trace. Ian knew he was trash, a Southside hood that Mickey only chased for a sense of danger. Maybe he was just fooling himself, maybe everything he thought they had wasn’t really there, it was just a figment of his love fueled imagination. Mickey was here now, heart on his sleeve, after Ian had decided he’d be okay without him. The perilous fucker. His heart constricted in his chest, squeezing painfully as he watched the love of his life break his heart all over again.

“I love you,” Mickey said, with the same air of simplicity he’d had the entire time they were talking, and it infuriated Ian. How all of this was so simple for him, like he hadn’t shown up and completely fucked up the fragile house of cards Ian had set up on the foundation of the belief that Mickey was gone for good.

“Oh, fuck you,” Ian said, breathless, unable to stop the way his voice shook.

“I love you. Do you still love me?” Mickey asked, blue eyes shining beautifully in the moonlight, reducing Ian to a single atom of regret and heartbreak.

“No,” he shook his head, sounding completely dishonest and unconvinced. He had to try to fight it and maintain some sense of dignity, even if it was all for naught.

“Liar,” Mickey said, calling him out on it immediately. He’d always been able to read Ian like a book, turn each page and read every word and dismantle every single thing about him.

“I don’t,” Ian said, attempting to sound more confident in his answer. It wasn’t working, and Mickey knew that, knew he could chip away at every single defense, brick by brick, leave him standing in the rubble.

Mickey took an advancing step towards him, hand reaching out to touch him, and it nearly broke him. “I love you,” Mickey repeated, and Ian almost believed him.

Ian’s reaction was immediate, the surge of electricity between them stung like it always had, so much so that Ian had to physically turn away before his body would betray him and give in to Mickey completely like he’d always had. He turned away, hands going up, arms bending at the elbows, hands curling into weak fists near the sides of his face, hearing and feeling Mickey walk closer behind him, the familiar electricity pulsating in the air around them. Ian’s mouth hung agape in painful disbelief.

He felt Mickey’s arms wrap around his waist, the familiar feeling nearly bringing Ian to his knees. He felt Mickey’s face press into his shoulder, eyelashes brushing against the skin of the side of his neck. “I love you,” he whispered, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it was.

Ian pressed a hand over his face, pushing aside the wetness that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. He breathed in, exhaling the night air slowly in a helpless, shaky sigh.

Meanwhile, inside, Lip and Debbie were silently rooting for him. Or against him, maybe, the jury was still out. “Don’t do it,” Lip said to himself and Debbie, who nervously bit her nails and peered outside through the curtains.

Ian lowered his hands, placing them on Mickey’s and nearly wept at their achingly familiar feel, sighing shakily. He turned around, facing Mickey, just inches from his face, managing to blink twice before giving in completely and melting into a kiss, their lips tangling in the way they always had. Mickey’s hands tightened around his waist, Ians hands caressing Mickey’s face and moving to wrap around his neck and hold him tightly.

“Shit,” Lip swore to himself, Debbie shaking her head and sighing with a resigned look on her face. “Oh, Ian,” she murmured to herself and shook her head.

Maybe it was that simple— maybe they could go back to this, to their life together, fall back into place like nothing had ever changed. In reality, Ian knew the house of cards he built was on false pretenses and promises, precariously waiting for a gentle breeze to knock it over and send his entire life crumbling into nothing but a familiar mess. Fuck normalcy. Maybe all he needed was in front of him. Maybe what he needed wasn’t a ring or a sense of stability, maybe the right thing was to just fucking _go with it_. He’d find out, he’d learn, but in this moment, in the glow of the moon, Mickey’s mouth was all he cared to know.

The feeling of Mickey’s mouth on his was dizzying, intoxicating him in the most familiar, gut wrenching way. Before Ian lost himself and his self respect completely, he pulled away and rested his forehead against Mickey’s, breathing each other’s air.

Ian had wetness brimming his eyes, arms still holding Mickey tightly, like if he loosened his grip, he’d float away.

“Why’d you have to come back?” Ian whispered shakily, wishing that perhaps he was dreaming some kind of fucked up nightmare.

“I _love_ you,” Mickey said, leaning forward and kissing Ian’s nose.

Ian inhaled sharply, a tear finally spilling over onto his cheek that he didn’t bother to wipe, because of course, Mickey gently swiped it away with his thumb and rested a hand on his face as well.

“You left,” Ian said as a-matter-of-factly, a hollowness in his chest when he remembered the way he’d blown up Mickey’s phone for weeks trying to get an answer, standing in the snow and blubbering like an idiot after feeling played. “You said you wouldn’t leave, and you left,” he murmured, blinking slowly.

“I know,” he said, looking genuinely remorseful. Ian steeled himself, a tiny voice in the back of his head reminding him that he really had no idea who Mickey was. “I came back, though, Ian. I came back for _you_.”

Despite himself, despite the warning sirens blaring in his head, and despite the eyes of his siblings spying on him through the window, he believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on Twitter @southsideruies


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